


For Abbys-Jam-Juggler

by Pastache



Series: Prompts [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:26:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastache/pseuds/Pastache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was bored and prompted- so something sappy and something sweet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Abbys-Jam-Juggler

Thomas’ head spun just thinking about Jimmy. Well- admittedly the alcohol was _certainly_ helping but never the less… Thomas lay back on the floor of his room and let his hand fall over his eyes as an overwhelming grin took over his face. _Jimmy loves me_. His heart skipped a beat. _Jimmy loves me back_. Well he hadn’t said as much- but he’d shuffled awkwardly into his room and told Thomas to “stop being a creep and starin’ at me all the time, and jus’ _do_ it already” and Thomas had blinked in confusion and Jimmy had sighed and run a hand through his hair and then _shoved_ Thomas with all his might up against the desk, lips and hands claiming what they’d been hesitant to ask for. Thomas stumbled slightly, arms full of Jimmy, mind full of bliss, cupped his beautiful golden cheek and met Jimmy’s mouth with softness until Jimmy swore, bit Thomas’ lip and demanded _more_.

 

The next morning Thomas had woken up with his body covered in signs of Jimmy’s possessiveness, his over spilling need for control and- _at last Thomas could say it_ \- his overwhelming need for Thomas, too, after months of bottling it up and waiting. They hadn’t yet shared a bed overnight, but whenever they passed each other Jimmy would smirk that smug little grin that Thomas finally deciphered as no-one-can-tell-but-I-want-you-madly, and Thomas still flushed every time- all this from a man who’d screamed the house down at the _idea_ of him being in any way interested in Thomas.

            ‘ah but that was _before_ ’ Jimmy grumbled. ‘I woke up to _somethin’_ pressin’ me down-’ Thomas shot him a guilty look, ‘-and bloody Alfred lookin’ like he were goin’ straight to Mr. Carson. I don’t want Mr. bloody Carson in my personal affairs, thank you very much’. And that had been the end of it. Jimmy had decided what he wanted, and took it as his own. Not that Thomas was complaining; he’d give Jimmy his _soul_ if he could detach it from his body. Or if he, you know, _believed_ in that sort of thing.

            The thing about Jimmy was-

 

Something his Thomas on the side of the face and he jumped in surprise. Turned out to be an empty cigarette packet- _empty? He’d only bought a new one this morning_ …

            “Wake up- it’s your bloody turn.” Jimmy wasn’t slurring his speech, but he was close- the tighter he got, the more times ‘bloody’ appeared in his sentences. Thomas blinked and re-shuffled his cards, trying to remember-

            _Ah yes_. Pontoon ‘with a twist’ as Jimmy had sniggered at him. The ‘twist’ was that when someone lost a hand, they had to remove an item of clothing. Soon this had developed into ‘or have a swig from the whiskey bottle’ between them, when it became clear they’d both be naked in a few rounds and the point of the game would be ruined. Thomas’ heart was beating steadily faster. He’d seen Jimmy naked before, by now, but as always-

            “Christ Thomas, you in a bloody daze or somethin’?”

            “Sorry… sorry- must be a little more that half-ratted after all.”

            “Bloody thimble gut.”

            Thomas glanced at his cards, trying to form an adequate retort, “Hit me.”

            Jimmy snorted and leaned over to punch him on the arm.

            “Okay, that was funny the _first_ time.”

            “What can I say, I jus’ can’t bloody resist putting my hands on you at any given opportunity.”

            And here Thomas blushed again; he just huffed and took a card, cursing under his breath when he revealed the jack of hearts.

            “I’m bust… you win.”

            “You drinkin’ or?” The way Jimmy let the bottle dangle from his hand as he sat up, arm on his knee, was very pretty, Thomas decided.

            “Uh- I give up. I think.” He leaned back until he was lying on the floor, looking up into the bright lights of the ceiling.

            “That’s not a bloody option, Mr. Barrow- that’s bloody cheatin’.” Jimmy crawled over, unsteady, even on all fours, until he was comfortably on top of Thomas, breathing whiskey over him and kissing his jaw playfully.

            “How ‘bout I help you with an item of clothing, hmm?” Thomas could feel Jimmy’s presence above him, his warm breath on his neck, and he kept his eyes closed, enjoying the smell of Jimmy’s aftershave and the pressure of Jimmy on his chest.

            “’Cos,” Jimmy paused to snicker, he was so _cheeky_ when he was pissed, “I know which item _I_ want to see off.” His hand flicked the waistband of Thomas’ underwear, (his trousers had been lost hours ago).

            “Mm.” Thomas commented, lazily feeling for Jimmy’s face to pull him into a kiss, feeling slow but utterly content. Jimmy started to rut his hips a little, as the kiss went on, and he started to turn it into something more- _horny little bastard_ -

            “Hold on,” Thomas said into Jimmy’s mouth, waiting until Jimmy could bring himself to separate,

            “What- am I sittin’ too heavy on you or somethin’?”

            “No- just…” Thomas chased the thought he’d been having, “Sit up a second.” He put his arm around the small of Jimmy’s back, sitting them both up so Jimmy was straddling his lap. He was looking at Thomas with a slightly glazed form of confusion, _he can’t hold his drink any more than I can- there’s that at least_ , Thomas thought as he dwelt on the coming humilities of morning. _Not that you’re gonna regret anythin’ more than **this,** tonight…_

            “What is it, Thomas?” Jimmy was almost concerned as Thomas put a hand to Jimmy’s cheek, grinning in the completely unhidden way he only could when he’d had a bit to drink. _Where’d that bottle get to, anyway_?

            “I wanna- I wanna- _hic_ \- give you somethin’.” He waited, to make sure he wouldn’t hiccough again, and beamed at Jimmy to reassure him, “close your eyes and hold out your hands- it’s a _surprise_.”

            Jimmy rolled his eyes. “An’ _where_ exactly are you keepin’ this bloody gift, then? You don’t have any pockets left… unless…” he sniggered.

            “Jus’ do it- you’re ruinin’ the mood.”   

            “Tsk. Fine.” He shut his eyes obediently and Thomas pressed nothing- and something- into Jimmy’s hands.

            Jimmy cracked his eyes open, and then frowned at his empty hands. “What is it, then? Or were you jus’ prattin’ about-”

            “No- _no_.” Thomas shook his head, pleased despite himself and flushing fully as the words tripped out of his mouth, and he put one palm to the flat of his chest and the other over Jimmy’s hands,

            “It’s right _there_ \- where it’s always been, actually.” Thomas considered this. “So you better- you better take good care of my heart, Jimmy boy.” Jimmy didn’t even snort at that one, he was looking at Thomas so intently, “Cos it’s the only one I’ve got- an’- I’ve given it t’you.” Thomas frowned, “metaphorically speakin’, o’course.”

            Jimmy noted that Thomas’ accent got rougher when it was thick with alcohol, and he shook his head gently.

            “You’re bloody _sappy_ , y’know that?” he brushed some loose strands of hair out of Thomas’ face and grinned, leaning in to press a firm kiss on Thomas’ lips just as he’d started pouting.

            “And- y’know. I bloody love you too- an’ all.” He said quietly. And Thomas grinned his ‘Jimmy’ grin and pressed their foreheads together, nuzzling him gently.

            “Let’s go t’bed, hmm? You _wordsmith_.” And without further ado he scooped Jimmy up, to his indignant complaints, (‘put me bloody down Thomas I’m not a bloody maiden you bloody _arse_ ’) he took Jimmy to bed. They were too drunk to do anythin’ much except rub against each other lazily and fall asleep half way through; Jimmy snoring softly, golden curls against Thomas’ chest and Thomas curled on his side, chin on Jimmy’s forehead, (also snoring gently), and for once, neither’s mind was bothered by anything at all, just pleasant dreams of one another.

 

That wouldn’t hold when morning’s hangover hit.


End file.
